


Chicken Noodle Soupy

by jellyfish_spine



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Boston Bruins, Chef's Life AU, F/M, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 16:46:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10283474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfish_spine/pseuds/jellyfish_spine
Summary: You can't live a little without breaking a few eggs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Lot's of thanks to the Moon Colony (:

His mother had sprung an impromptu visit and Greg was caught with only half a carton of eggs in the fridge. He was forced to explain how exactly a _growing boy was supposed to get big and strong by only eating eggs._ Ignore the fact that he was 33 and had been successfully living on his own for years.

Gregory’s mother bought him a seat in a cooking class almost immediately. 

Greg arrived barely a minute past seven to find couples sitting at nearly all the work stations, heads bowed together, all smiles and bubbly laughter. She sat alone in the back, a waterfall of dark curls pinned away from her face, hunched over a large bag, pulling knife after knife out and decisively setting them on the counter.

“Is this seat taken?”

“Nope, all yours” The woman smiled and leaned over the table, sticking out her hand. ”I’m Anna”.

“Greg”, Her hand was small in his, but the handshake was firm and assertive. Greg liked that, he even liked the contrast between her calloused hands and his own. He smiled at Anna and she smiled back, a big toothy grin with one side of her mouth hitching up higher than the other.  


The din settled and a rotund man in an ill-fitting chef’s coat greeted the room warmly. He explained, with no understanding of brevity, that raw ingredients, when not sliced and diced to the right size and shape, would cook improperly; that they could not bring about a balanced dish.

“Do you want a glass of wine?” Anna reached into her bag, pulling free two bottles of wine.

“I…yes”, Greg took a moment to scan the room, watching each couple uncork a bottle of wine. “Yeah, that sounds good”.

“Pinot or Chardonnay?” Anna extended the labels towards Greg, "I promise I don't just carry around extra wine by the way". Her smile was addictive, and Greg found himself focused more on how she laughed at herself than the labels he couldn't read.

Greg shrugged, “Surprise me, it’s all just old grapes”. Anna let out a breathy laugh, setting one of the bottles down.

“So, what brings you here, Greg?” Greg grabbed two glasses from beneath the counter, setting them down.

“My mom thinks I’m going to starve to death”. Greg offered a sheepish grin, suddenly embarrassed that the only kitchen gadget he knew how to use was the garbage disposal.

Anna’s brow furrowed as she started twisting the corkscrew in, “How are you going to starve?”

“I may or may not eat eggs for every meal,” Greg couldn’t help but stare at Anna’s arms, tracing burn marks with his eyes, contemplating asking about them. “I’m not bad, I just don’t know what I’m doing." His eyes lingered on the small scars that covered her fingers," You know what you’re doing.”

Anna smiled as she pulled the cork free and she laughed while pouring with a heavy hand, “I’m an executive chef. My Alma mater asked me back to teach a class and I realized I don’t know how to teach.”

Greg suddenly found himself interested in life as a chef, found himself asking questions about how she chose that path. Anna returned the favor, asking about what he did and focusing intently on Greg’s contribution, warm eyes focused on his lips.

Anna watched as Greg began cutting, gently encouraging him to relax, and nudging his fingers into the proper position. When the carrots had been cut into a pile of uneven strips Greg asked Anna if she wouldn’t mind showing him how it’s done with the onion. Anna politely agreed, noting that her knives were specially purchased for her hands, smaller than knives he should use. Without hesitation, Anna had brought the knife down in a series of swift and fluid strokes, and Greg was absolutely fucked. It might have been the wine or it might be how gorgeous Anna’s arms and hands looked, the muscles long, lean and purposeful. It might have been the wine or it might be Anna’s long lashes and the slight blush across her cheeks from drinking. It could be any number of things but Greg was completely here for it, the long fingers, the dedicated listening, the soft-spoken guidance, and that lopsided smile that went straight to his chest. 

**

Torey was on her in an instant, poking and prodding about who the tall mystery man could possibly be. “Who was _that_?"

Anna dropped her bag on the kitchen table. She leaned over to inspect the window and sure enough there was a smudge on the glass, the same shape as Torey’s palm. “Were you spying on me?” 

“You were supposed to be home earlier, what kept you out so late?” Torey dug into Anna’s bag, pulling out the remaining bottle of wine and grabbing a corkscrew off of the counter. “Or should I say, who kept you out so late?” 

Anna kicked her shoes off and draped her jacket over the only chair in the whole apartment. Torey freed the cork and patted the seat next to her on the couch. “Spill! I haven’t dated in forever”. 

Anna flushed, a deep pink blush crawling up her throat. She sat next to Torey, tucking her feet underneath herself, “You know how Cordon Bleu asked me to guest lecture?” 

“Yes”, Torey took a long pull from the bottle, offering it Anna after. 

“I figured, while I was there, I was learning how to cook. Not how to teach.” Torey nodded while Anna took a swig, “So I signed up for a learn to cook class over in South Boston.” 

“All I’m hearing is _blah blah blah, chef talk_ , I want the deal about the guy”. 

“I’m getting there”, Anna’s voice firmed and she took another drink. “So, I go, and this guy sat next to me. It was a couple’s class, we both were there alone. Turns out his mom signed him up because he can’t cook worth a damn. I lucked out, I get to teach the worst student one on one”. 

Anna passed the bottle back, leaning into the well-worn cushions. A self-satisfied smile playing on her lips. 

“So?” Torey drew the word out, shaking her shoulders back and forth. 

“Oh yeah, he offered to take me home since it was late”. 

Torey rolled her eyes emphatically, “Beautiful men don’t just offer to walk you home. You get yourself home fine all the time!” 

“He works for the Globe, says he’s always reading articles about people getting attacked on the T.” Anna shrugged. Greg was textbook gorgeous, but her focus was elsewhere. His story checked out and he hadn’t tried anything funny. Plus, he had watched her with a fierce intensity, trying to copy her entire move, tongue stuck out in concentration. Anna thought it was funny and heartwarming. 

Torey sat back and forced the cork back in the bottle, “I’ll allow it”. 

Anna lightly kicked her roommate, she’d be lying if she said she didn’t notice the way his button up clung to his arms, gently straining every time he moved. She’d be lying if she said she her eyes didn’t linger on the strong line of his jaw, lying if she said she didn’t secretly love his stubble, rugged and patchy as it was. 


End file.
